


surgeons, supermodels, and football feuds

by pumpkinpaperweight



Series: soccer moms/modern au [2]
Category: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani
Genre: F/M, enemies to lovers i guess omg, i'm not joking thats what it is and i love it, plus my alex vs ocs hah, soccer moms au, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 01:04:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15304017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpaperweight/pseuds/pumpkinpaperweight
Summary: Although his lips are pursed and his eyes are narrowed and he wears an expression like a disapproving high-class grandmother from the eighteen hundreds, he’s still hot?What the hell.So Agatha leans back on the stupid creaky plastic chair and smiles a stupid fake smile and asks this stupid guy with his stupid blonde curls that he probably dyes why he's being a dick.Okay, she didn’t actually say that.(tedros and agatha are feuding soccer moms whose kids are, unfortunately, friends.)





	surgeons, supermodels, and football feuds

**_Group Chat: Secret Soccer Alliance_ **

**_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: Soccer what are we American_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _shut up it sounds better than football, it’s alliterative_

 **_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _nerd_

 **_Marcus_ ** _: you are SO annoying_

 **_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _yeah ikr_

 **_Ros:_ ** _wow. Unfazed_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: I try_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _okay ANyWay… It Has Begun_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: ?_

 **_Marcus_ ** _: mum, me, top left of the benches_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: hey my dad is sat there too_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: OHHHHHHHHHH_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: oof_

 **_Ros_ ** _: aw now I’m going to pay zero attention to the game lmao have they acknowledged each other yet_

 **_Marcus_ ** _: no worries I’m documenting everything for your perusal after the game. And also no they’re glaring in opposite directions_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: perusal?? Hahaha nerdddddddd_

 **_Ros:_ ** _did you seriously just type out “hahaha”_

 **_Marcus_ ** _: you’re never going to find out_

 **_Marcus_ ** _has removed **Alexandra the Great** from the chat_

_1 new text message from **Alex:**_

_BITCHHHH_

Agatha can see Marcus texting furiously from the corner of her eye, which is weird: Marcus isn’t particularly enthusiastic about social media, (he doesn’t post like, ever), and he texts so little and goes out so rarely, she often worries he doesn’t have that many friends- so why, now, he’s typing almost as fast as Rosalind, is somewhat of a mystery.

Not one she’s particularly interested in right now, though. Maybe she’ll ask him later. But at the moment, she is trying not to turn around and strangle the star football player’s dad.

It wasn’t for no reason, obviously- oh, no, her intense rivalry with one Mr Tedros Pendragon was a long running thing.

See, in _literally_ any other world, they would have gotten along just fine. They are both invested in their daughter’s sports, they’re similarly dedicated to helping out with their teams where they could, and Tedros’s daughter is a nice kid, as far as Agatha can tell.

But there’s one, teeny, tiny problem; Tedros Pendragon is an asshole.

-

The first time they had met was several months ago- both the under thirteen and the under sixteen teams had won their game, so both teams, plus parents and coaches, had been dragged out for an obligatory McDonalds to celebrate.

Agatha had been sat on a shitty plastic chair, watching Rosalind throw stuff at her team-mates, when she overhears bickering.

She doesn’t exactly try to listen (although, she also isn’t actively trying to ignore it), but the kid- one of the older girls, whose name she didn’t know- is talking quite loudly;

“But Da-aaaddd-”

“You’ve had enough, Alex, you’ve probably already _doomed_ your metabolism-”

It takes everything Agatha has not to roll her eyes. One of _those_ people, then.

“But dad, everyone else is getting dessert! Come on, we _won-”_

“And that’s great, and I’m proud of you, but I’m not letting you just ingest even _more_ of this poison-”

Agatha resists the (very compelling) urge to text Hester and bitch about this idiot, and instead casts a quick glance over, noting the mingled annoyance and disappointment on the girl’s face and her dad’s ramrod-straight posture, which implies the kid is _not_ going to win this one, and Agatha decides to be _really_ petty.

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, but I couldn’t help but overhear… surely it’s not out of the question, to let your daughter have dessert?”

The girl- Alex, Agatha realises- looks positively ecstatic at her intervention. Agatha swings around to face the man properly, wondering whether she was going to have to fist-fight a random dude over a McFlurry.

He’s sat very tensely on his own, which surprises her- he looks almost uncomfortable.

Then she notices the Rolex and groans internally. Right. Probably does his weekly shop at Harrods, feeds his (presumed) stupid little dog quinoa, and drives a Mercedes-Benz to carpool for the soccer team. No doubt, to him, McDonalds was a festoon of filth crawling with the scum of the earth.

He blinks; “… excuse me?” which forces Agatha to focus on his face and oh Jesus _Christ,_ this was not fair-

Although his lips are pursed and his eyes are narrowed and he wears an expression like a disapproving high-class grandmother from the eighteen hundreds, he’s still _hot._

_What the hell._

So Agatha leans back on the stupid creaky plastic chair and smiles a stupid fake smile and asks this stupid guy with his stupid blonde curls that he probably dyes why he was being a dick.

Okay, she didn’t actually say that.

She actually says something along the lines of “I get the impression you hardly ever let her come here”, and he says something like “nice to know you’re perceptive”, and she internally marvels at his incredible ability for being a massive twat, and tells him that actually, McDonalds wasn’t that bad, once in a while, in moderation, as a treat for, _oh, I don’t know, winning a football game,_ and he delivers the immortal line that seals his cold-blooded murder-

“What are you, a doctor, or something?”

Agatha could have shrieked in triumph.

She smiles as brightly as she could at him. He looks rather wary all of a sudden.

“Oh- funny you should say that… because, yeah, I am, actually. Doctor Kaenthai. I work at the hospital in the town. As a surgeon.”

She could have sworn that Alex whispers _KO_ to herself.  

Tedros stares at her for a couple of seconds, utterly floored, mouthing wordlessly. Agatha stares back mildly, enjoying watching his brain work (or not work.)

They had sat at odds like that for a good five minutes.

Alex had gotten her McFlurry.

Tedros and Agatha had loathed one another since.

(But now Alex loved Agatha, which reeeaallly pissed Tedros off.)

So now, every time Tedros and Agatha saw each other, they wasted no time in sniping and sneering and delivering intense passive-aggression to one another whilst their kids looked on.

Today was no different.

-

By halfway through the match, Agatha has nearly choked to death due to whatever horrifically strong aftershave he was wearing, she’s narrowly dodged being kicked twice, and Tedros has let out a very audible cluck of irritation when the coach distributed Lucozade to the kids, which really is just the _pinnacle_ of assholeish-ness. His daughter is 14, gangly as all hell, and apart from the fact they were kind of crooked, has basically perfect teeth. He doesn’t _need_ to worry about his daughter ingesting sugar like, twice every six years, when he isn’t hiring hitmen to kill ice-cream men, or whatever the hell he does to stop his daughter eating anything that isn’t zero calories.

Also, he is, as usual, surrounded by basically every other player’s mother, which basically just pisses Agatha off because he’s perfectly nice to all of them, even though they could almost always be heard bitching behind their hands about Alex’s teeth or the other kid’s technique, or whichever poor parent was subject to this week’s scandal- 

“Isn’t it pretty irresponsible to let kids have all this sugar right after a match?”

Oh, joy, he speaks!

And, just to make it better, he seems to have thrown it out as a general statement to the other parents around him, apparently expecting them to agree- which they do, with vehement nodding and disapproving noises. Agatha can’t resist rolling her eyes and groaning quietly, even though Marcus is staring intensely at her in an apparent attempt to stop her-

“I’m sorry, do you disagree?” asks Tedros mildly from behind her. It’s obvious who the question was meant for.

Oh, okay, so he was really going to do this, was he?

Agatha turns around, despite Marcus’s vague noise which seems to be another half-assed attempt to stop her- (surprising- usually he’d have sooner amputated his own leg than be involved in any confrontation ever, so what was up with him?)-

Tedros is already glaring at her.

Well, this is going to be fun.

-

**_Group Chat: Secret Soccer Alliance:_ **

**_Marcus:_ ** _Alex your dad has been making very disapproving noises in the background for the past ten minutes… maybe stop chugging Lucozade?_

 **_Alexandra the Great IS BACK:_ ** _no lol_

 **_Alexandra the Great IS BACK:_ ** _look I love him but he’s batshit when it comes to health so I take all the chances I get_

 **_Alexandra the Great IS BACK:_ ** _oh wait am I allowed to swear you’re like ten right_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _you’ve been swearing on this since we made it. Also I’m twelve_

 **_Alexandra the Great IS BACK :_ ** _oh yeah lol. But you look ten to me ngl_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _get glasses then_

 **_Ros_ ** _: sdnisnlfnslizbfshrkn_

 **_Alexandra the Great IS BACK:_ ** _omg okay damn_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _anyway this looks like it’s gonna be a stand-off between our parents again bc it’s driving mum insane_

 **_Ros:_ ** _film it and I’ll tell you where I hid your ipad_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _tempting but I don’t think I c_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _WAI T NO BDUSAGBZKIGHS HERE WE GO LADS YEEESS_

 **_Ros:_ ** _we’re both girls_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _FIGURE OF SPEECH. THIS IS AMAZING_

 **_Alexandra the Great IS BACK_ ** _: waiiiit what did your mum just say why does my dad look so shook_

 **_Alexandra the Great IS BACK_ ** _: wait now SHE looks shook?? Why is dad smirking? Marcus what’s happening_

 **_Ros:_ ** _you CAN’T just leave us hanging like that_

 **_Ros:_ ** _Marcus!!!!!!!!!!!!_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _… Alex?_

 **_Alexandra the Great IS BACK_ ** _: wassup_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _can I take a stab at guessing your dad’s job_

_-_

Agatha spins back to the pitch five minutes later, fuming, and seriously considering thumping Tedros.

So she had turned around to face him, surrounded by furiously whispering parents, and she asks him;

“I’m sorry?”

Tedros forces a smile that makes him look more like he’d been stabbed. And Agatha should know, right?

“Well, you always seem to have a problem with _my_ views on how much sugar _my_ child should be having, so I figured I should hear _your_ input on this.”

Agatha considers bashing his stupid perfect face in.

Was he _really_ going to go this passive-aggressive? This early? In front of everyone else?

Two could play at that game, asshole.

Agatha fakes a smile back.

“Oh, well, I don’t. I actually have a problem with _you_ , you see. You’re a bit of a prick.”

Tedros’ mouth goes slack. Agatha idly wonders if anyone has ever told him he was a prick, ever, or whether this was a first time thing.

Unfortunately, he recovers pretty fast.

“C-care to elaborate?”

“Not really.” Admits Agatha. “I just think you’re arrogant and insufferable, and your daughter’s sugar intake- or lack of- just sort of alerted me to it.”

One of the mothers gasps so loudly it’s almost comical. Marcus snorts into his fist.

Tedros looks remarkably calm, which is a bit disappointing if Agatha is being totally honest. Although he does look flushed around his (irritatingly perfect) cheekbones, which is something of a victory.

“Well then, if that’s what you think-”

“Oh, shut up.” gripes Agatha, fed up now. “I don’t know who you think you are- some semi-famous Instagram model who thinks he’s a big shot or something, but I- what the hell is funny?”

Because now, instead of looking irritated, Tedros has barked out a startled laugh.

“What?” demands Agatha. Tedros stares at her, a look that was somewhere between incredulous and amused now taking over his face;

“You seriously don’t know?” he splutters.

“Know _what?”_ snaps Agatha. Tedros shakes his head, still grinning in a slightly bewildered manner, and doesn’t answer her. So Agatha, thoroughly done with the whole thing, turns back around, resolving to ignore the idiot from now on. She doesn’t know what his deal is, and, honestly, she doesn’t want to.

Marcus has sat through most of this with his phone and a look in his big, glasses-magnified, eyes that suggests he’s _really_ enjoying spectating the feud (he could get so, _so,_ invested in drama, and seems to always know the gossip even though no one ever tells him it). But as the clock edges towards the end of the game, his smile fades, and now he’s sat, hunched over, glaring at the pitch in a similar manner to his mother.

Ah.

Agatha has almost forgotten, in her annoyance, about what’s scheduled after this game.

Suddenly Tedros is much less of a problem.

\--

“Ah, so glad you could make it, Ms… Ms… uh…” The weedy little man in the tweed suit pauses awkwardly, staring at the sheet which presumably has her surname on it. Agatha briefly considers pretending she can’t speak English, but it probably isn’t worth it.

“Kaenthai.” Agatha says tiredly. “Just call me Agatha.” She really does not have the energy to deal with her son’s useless English teacher butchering her name today.

“Ah, yes. Agatha. Right. Um, we’re here to talk about your son.”

No shit!

Marcus fidgets anxiously beside her. Agatha has not yet managed to get out of him what he thinks this meeting was about, but it’s obvious that he’s guessed, and knowing Marcus and his impressive brain, he was probably right.

“So… well, I have to admit that your son is… obviously very gifted, in the noble art of the English Language.”

Agatha smothers a snort. Marcus kicks her. Professor Pollux (who was the only teacher in the whole school called a “professor”, which really told you all you needed to know) barrels onwards, apparently not noticing her scepticism.

“But I have some _extreme_ reservations when it comes to his attitude and personality in my lessons.”

Agatha’s mouth falls open.

His _personality?_

Marcus kicks her again, harder, his ears flooding scarlet, but Agatha ignores him. Pollux keeps going;

“He simply has no confidence! His work is outstanding, but he’s timid as a mouse-”

 _Was that really the best simile he could come up with?_ Agatha thinks, then realises she isn’t paying attention and hastily tries to tune back in-

“-and he’s honestly embarrassing to watch when I call on him…”

_He! Has! Anxiety! You! Moron!_

Agatha considers putting Pollux in A&E, then decides that was a _definite_ breach of her Hippocratic Oath and sits on her hands- just in case- as Pollux steamrolls on and Marcus hunches over more and more.

“I think something needs to be done, Ms… uh, Agatha… because, frankly, he’s just not good enough in class discussions and contributions for me.”

Marcus’s lips are a thin line, and he’s practically rammed his glasses into the bridge of his nose- no doubt trying to hide his eyes, oh nooooo-

Agatha takes a breath to say something, but Pollux is _still_ talking, (how??)-

To Marcus.

“So, what do you have to say for yourself, young man?”

Marcus draws a far-too-shaky-to-be-good breath, and Agatha readies herself to attempt to diffuse the situation-

_Bam._

The door slams open so hard the ugly portrait of Shakespeare on the wall falls down and shatters.

“Who in _blazes-”_ begins Pollux, whirling to the door-

“HEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYY POLLUX MY MAN WHAT IS _UP_?”

Pollux goes the same purple as the carpet.

Alex Pendragon slams into the office, neon knee socks sliding down her calves, grinning way too broadly, and splattered head to toe in mud. And trotting behind her-

Agatha wonders if it’s too late to just up and die. Of course her stupid semi-rival _has_ to come crashing into this meeting with her son’s useless professor. Obviously. Because the universe hates her.

“Hey, man!” says Alex brightly. Agatha has no idea why she’s talking to one of her teachers like he’s her best friend, but she has bigger worries right now. “I haven’t seen you for _ages,_ damn! When was it you had me kicked out of your class? Like two months ago? That’s crazy!”

Agatha just sort of sits there, utterly stunned, as Alex hoists herself up onto Pollux’s desk, still grinning broadly, and Tedros kicks the ruined portrait of Shakespeare under a pot-plant.

Pollux looks like he’s just seen someone stabbed to death right in front of him. Marcus looks like he’d been punched in the head. Agatha has no idea what to do. Alex swings her legs and whistles tunelessly.

After a very pregnant pause, Pollux seems to finally find his voice.

Well, “find” is somewhat of an understatement; he all but erupts. Agatha half-expects his head to blow right off his shoulders;

“ALEXANDRA PENDRAGON WHEN I SAID GET OUT OF MY SIGHT PERMANANTLY I MEANT FOREVER! FOREVER, YOU STUPID GIRL, WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE _DOING_ WHAT MAKES YOU THINK YOU CAN JUST COME BARGING IN HERE-”

Agatha sits there as Alex grins and Pollux shrieks, trying to work out what on earth is happening-

Then Tedros catches her eye as he saunters across the room to peer out of the window, and shoots a very pointed look towards the still-open door.

Agatha gets what he means, but like _hell_ if she can actually process what’s happening- is her borderline arch-nemesis actually, seriously, _helping_ her? Why? And how had he known they were here?

Agatha brushes it off; it was probably Alex’s idea. From what she can gather, Alex is a good kid- maybe she’d just wanted to help Marcus?

Either that or she’s just trying to annoy Pollux-

Tedros’s foot catches the back of her chair.

“Alright!” hisses Agatha, irritated, and grabs a bewildered Marcus’s arm. “Come on, love, we’re going home.”

“But-”

Agatha ignores his protests and tows him towards the door-

Pollux notices them trying to leave, unfortunately un-blinded by Alex’s neon sports kit, and frowns.

“Ms-uhm...I mean, Agatha, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t done, let me just-”

Agatha could have screamed. She resists the overwhelming urge to grab Marcus and break into a dead sprint, and instead very reluctantly begins to turn back around-

Tedros pipes up from by the window, flipping through an exercise book;

“Hey, Pollux, d’you still teach about that italic pedometer thing?”

Pollux swells like a bullfrog inflicted with the fury of a thousand Shakespeare-loving gods, and Agatha takes that as her cue to leave.

 --

She’s barely ten feet down the road, though, before she hears someone scampering after her-

“Heeey, Ms Kaenthai, wait up!”

Agatha’s so surprised that Alex actually got her name right that she does. Marcus and Rosalind do too, even though Marcus still looks rattled and Ros has just spent the past five minutes verbally abusing Pollux’s name and reputation with considerable gusto.

“Marcus!” Alex skids to a halt in front of them, still very muddy. “Did you see how purple Pollux went? That was _so_ funny, oh my god-”

Agatha, surprised that Alex isn’t asking about what Pollux had said, and seems to have picked up on the Rosalind Super Tactic of Distraction (which wouldn’t work forever, but would hold up until they got home, no doubt), unfortunately doesn’t notice who has sidled up to her until he speaks;

“He did go very purple.”

“Why are you talking to me?” demands Agatha. Tedros shrugs, watching Alex join in with Rosalind’s merciless criticism of Pollux’s tweed suit.

“I dunno. Just figured I’d check you were okay.”

“ _Me?_ Why?”

“Well, you looked pretty rattled.”

Agatha stares at him, bewildered as to why they’re having a normal, non-passive aggressive conversation. Tedros frowns.

“For the record, _I_ never said I thought _you_ were a prick or anything.”

Agatha takes a deep breath. This is _way_ too much for her.

“I just- okay… true- oh, ugh. Look, what was that? What was the point? Did Alex put you up to that?”

Tedros blinks.

“Alex? Well, she said that Marcus was worried about his meeting with his English teacher, and I asked which one he had, and she said Pollux- well, actually, she said something else to _describe_ Pollux which I told her off for, but irrelevant. Anyway, Alex had Pollux at the beginning of this year, and he was an idiot with no patience for her- even though she’s really ADHD- and he made her cry. So I turned up to have a go at him, and he remembered he used to teach me, and almost had an aneurysm… long story short, Alex moved classes. So I figured that seeing us together would probably be too much for him to handle, so I suggested we turn up-”

“Okay, wait, wait, stop. You mean this was _your_ idea?”

“Oh. Yeah. That it was. I mean, the shouting was all Alex. I was sort of intending to finger-gun my way through an awkward _oh hey wow haven’t seen you for a bit_ conversation until he forgot about you guys.”

Agatha stares at him for a solid twenty seconds. Her brain seems to have stopped working. Tedros is still talking;

“He’s probably going to file a restraining order against me now, but-”

It takes all of Agatha’s willpower to say it, which is probably why she just blurts it out;

“…thank you.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not saying it again.”

“Oh.” Tedros frowns for a few seconds, then smiles weakly. “Fair enough.” His smile turns into something more wicked; “Guess you don’t really wanna thank such a prick, right?”

“Oh, shut up.” grumbles Agatha. Tedros just snorts. Agatha gets the impression he’s going to say more… but before he can, Alex comes bounding back over and all of a sudden Tedros has patted her shoulder in _the_ most awkward way imaginable, and they’re going their separate ways.

 --

“So, shitty news.”

Agatha looks up from her second muffin to see Hester and Anadil looming over her, the former wielding a rolled-up magazine in a rather threatening manner, the latter clutching two mugs of completely black coffee.

“Oh, do tell.” Sighs Agatha as they sit down opposite her.

“You’re not going to like it.” Warns Hester. Agatha doesn’t bother to respond, just quirks an eyebrow, indicating she should proceed. Hester blows out an exasperated breath.

“Okay, whatever. So, you know that prick whose kid is on Rosalind’s football team?”

“Tedros?”

“Yeah. I did a bit of research, right, on this dude-”

“ _Research?”_ asks Agatha apprehensively, fairly sure that Hester’s idea of _research_ is less Facebook stalking and more hacking/bullying/passport acquiring and forging. Hester just sighs at her, though.

“For once, yes, _just_ research. Took me about thirty seconds.”

“Huh?”

“Check this.” Grins Anadil, snatches the magazine from Hester and tosses it onto the table in front of Agatha.

It takes a few beats for Agatha to realise what she’s seeing. And then;

“You’re actually kidding.”

“Nope.” Chorus the two women.

“ _Vogue?”_

“Yep.”

_“Shirtless?”_

“Unfortunately.”

“Piss offfffff.” Agatha moans, sliding down in her chair.

“A bit of a bigger deal than a semi-famous Instagram model, unfortunately.” Anadil grins. “Trust you never to have heard of world-famous supermodel Tedros Pendragon.”

“And to start _feuding_ with him.” Muses Hester. “I’m actually impressed, not gonna lie.”

Agatha’s hardly listening, flipping furiously through this damn magazine, hoping upon hope that this is just another one of Hester’s elaborate schemes. But there’s nothing that suggests that it is. She pulls her phone out and does a quick search; lots of results. Too many. She scrolls through a couple of photos, and it’s definitely him, she’d know that stupid, chiselled face anywhere…

“He has a _Wikipedia page?”_ she splutters.

“Why is that more impressive to you than _Vogue_?” demands Anadil. Agatha just scrolls faster, but the more she sees, the more she is forced to admit that it’s probably legit, and she _knew_ there must have been a reason he always dressed so designer-

“Sophie is gonna explode.” Snickers Hester.

“What?” croaks Agatha, finally looking up from her phone. Hester just grins wider.

“She’s gonna scream. She _loves_ him.” Her face takes on a thoughtful sort of look. “God, you must be _really_ good at tuning her out- she talks about him so often. He’s basically her celebrity crush.”

They both blink expectantly at her. Agatha stares back, dead eyed, for a long second. And then;

“Oh my _god.”_ Moans Agatha, and orders another muffin.

 --

She doesn’t see Tedros after this revelation until the match on Saturday. Tedros doesn’t seem to know what to say, and neither does she, especially after what Hester and Anadil told her, so they just sit awkwardly next to each other and avoid eye contact by watching Alex’s team play a considerably aggressive group of girls who seem to have no intention of being sportsmanlike, or just generally… nice. There’s already been three fouls and counting, and Rosalind, who’s just finished playing and is now slumped in a sweaty heap next to them, is frowning.

Agatha had only looked away for a couple of seconds, checking a text from Sophie, when all of a sudden, the stands explode in shouting, and there’s screams and shrieks from the pitch-

Agatha looks up, surprised, to see Tedros already out of his seat and halfway down the steps, and two girls sprawled out on the pitch- one, a girl from the other team, who she doesn’t know, and the other-

“Oh, bloody hell, is that Alex?”

“What’s wrong with her arm?” squeaks Rosalind. Agatha looks, and sees that she’s got a point- oh, that’s not good, not good at all…

Before she can really think it through, she’s following Tedros down onto the pitch, and she can hear Ros and Marcus crashing after her. Together, they basically sprint over the grass to where Tedros is already knelt with Alex, who looks pretty panicked, is she crying- oh, that was _definitely_ a broken wrist.

“Here, let me see-” Agatha wedges herself in-between Tedros and one of Alex’s team-mates, a tall girl who she thinks is called Nadiya, and reaches to examine Alex’s wrist-

“Shove off, Kaenthai.” Snaps Tedros, pushing her arm away and carefully pulling Alex into a sitting position.

“ _What_?” splutters Agatha. Beside her, Rosalind and Marcus exchange glances. “Are you _kidding?”_

“I don’t need to be a doctor to tell she’s broken her wrist, _Agatha_ , now just let me-” Alex starts crying harder and Tedros is mercifully distracted.

Agatha, bewildered by his actually blinding stupidity, takes a long minute to compose herself, letting him fuss over his daughter, and listening to Marcus and Ros mutter next to her- until it finally gets too much.

“Tedros, let me _see_ her-”

“No! She’ll be fine, it’s not-”

Agatha has finally had enough.

“YOU’RE GOING TO MAKE IT _WORSE,_ YOU BLITHERING IDIOT, STOP CLUTCHING HER LIKE A STRICKEN MOTHER HEN AND _LET ME SEE HER!”_

Tedros gapes at her, still gripping Alex’s shoulder’s tightly-

“Dad.”

Tedros looks down so fast Agatha is surprised he doesn’t break his neck.

“Let Ms Kaenthai look at me.” Coughs Alex from somewhere around his shoulder area.

“But-”

“You’re being bloody stupid.” Alex says bluntly, and holds her arm out to Agatha. “Please sort out my arm, Ms Kaenthai. You can hit my dad as well, if you like.”

Tedros looks horrified, though which bit is horrifying, Agatha can’t tell.

 --

The drive to the hospital is one of the most awkward things Agatha has ever had to experience, ever. Tedros is muttering feverishly to himself in the passenger seat and gripping his knees so hard he’s probably going to draw blood, whilst Alex watches vine compilations in the back, arm in a makeshift sling which is actually Marcus’s jumper (it was the best Agatha had at the time), with Rosalind holding one of the ice-packs from the Lucozade-Filled Cooler Which Tedros Hates to her wrist. She’s probably the calmest in the car, which is incredibly impressive, given that she’s ADHD _and_ that she’s the one with the broken wrist.

They get to the hospital, and, honestly, Tedros is much more anxious than Alex, who is now showing Marcus very niche memes and eating her way through the plethora of high-sugar snacks that Agatha buys her whilst looking Tedros dead in the eye. Surprisingly, he doesn’t react, just bites his cheek and fiddles with Alex’s sling until Alex bats him away with her good arm and shows him a tweet about a fat cat.

 --

By the time Alex’s arm has been set, plastered, and they’re on their way back to Tedros’s house, Agatha has learned three new swear words from a fourteen year old, and Tedros is grey in the face and looks ready to pass out. Alex, Rosalind, and Marcus are asleep in a tangled heap of limbs in the back seat, with Alex’s bad arm propped carefully on top, which Agatha thinks is odd, considering they don’t really know each other.

Tedros is watching them in the mirror, and Agatha gets the impression he’s about to say something-

“You know they have a group chat together?”

“…what?”

“Alex showed it to me. They’ve been talking for weeks. It’s called _secret soccer alliance_ and I’m not entirely sure what it’s about, but there’s a lot of bickering. Alex calls herself Alexandra the Great.”

“Really?” splutters Agatha. She’s never heard anything about this so-called _secret soccer alliance._ “I… didn’t even know they were friends.”

“Me neither.” Mutters Tedros, peering out at the dark streets surrounding them.

 

**_Group Chat: Secret Soccer Alliance_ **

**_Ros_ ** _: AAAAaaaaaaaAAAA ABORT ABORT ALEX WHAT WERE YOU T H INKING, TELLING UR DAD_

 **_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _oops lol_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _changed the group chat name to **we’re gonna be stepsiblings lmao**_

 **_Ros:_ ** _… is that your attempt at hiding it_

 **_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _well my dad tries to avoid anything to do with Agatha ever so… yes!_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _… actually that’s not a bad idea_

 **_Ros_ ** _: yes it is_

 **_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _no it’s not_

 **_Ros:_ ** _is_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: isn’t_

 

Tedros sighs and Agatha does notice, with some vague degree of slight sympathy, that he looks exhausted.

“Tired?”

“Yes.” Tedros mutters. “This is basically my worst nightmare.”

Agatha casts a glance back at Alex, who has her face wedged on Rosalind’s arm and looks horribly uncomfortable, but is somehow still apparently asleep, even with her phone clutched in her good hand.

“…she’s okay.”

“Right. Right.” Tedros mumbles, half to himself, running his hands through his hair distractedly. “She’s fine.”

**_Group Chat: we’re gonna be stepsiblings lmao_ **

**_Alexandra the Great_ :** oh no he’s freaking out

 

There’s an awkward pause. Agatha thinks she senses movement in the back, but when she looks, all three kids still seem to be asleep.

“… you don’t seem like a bad parent.” Agatha admits slowly. Tedros looks up and raises his eyebrows.

“Even though I wouldn’t let my daughter get dessert?”

“Oh my god, shut _up_ about that!”

“You _started_ the whole thing!”

“Ugh.” Agatha grinds her teeth and ignores him. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees his grin fading.

“Just for the record, right now, I would let her have ten mcflurries.” He mumbles, fiddling with the ripped edges of his jeans. Because he’s probably in his thirties but he’s still wearing ripped jeans like a trendy teenager. No wonder all of Alex’s friends like him.

 

**_Group Chat: we’re gonna be stepsiblings lmao_ **

**_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _AAAAAAAAA SUCCESSS I’M BREAKING BONES ALL THE TIME NOW_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _that’s a horrible idea_

 **_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _mm true, but guess who’s hamming this up for as long as possible. Ten mcflurries bitchessss_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _I’m not sure he was literal_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: I’ll make sure he is kiddo_

“Oh, _really?”_

“Why do you doubt everything I say?” Tedros demands furiously.

“ _Me?_ You wouldn’t let me look at your daughter!”

Rather than arguing back, though, Tedros at least has the decency to look rather ashamed.

“… yeah, sorry about that. I panicked.”

“No shit.”

“No, but like… you know how it is, right?”

“No. I really wanted to beat some sense into you, to be honest.”

“Oh. That’s fair. Guess you’re pretty good at crisis management.” Tedros muses. “But you can’t tell me if like, Ros broke her ankle, you wouldn’t panic even a tiny bit?”

Agatha shrugs.

“Probably. But not so much I wouldn’t let an actual doctor look at her.”

“… yeah, okay. Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I suppose we’re even now.”

“Even?”

“For the Pollux thing.”

“Oh!” Agatha gets the impression that Tedros had forgotten all about that. “Oh, yeah. Well, that was just a stupid thing. Pollux is a dick.” He pauses. “I guess the group chat explains how Alex knew about that, actually... But yeah, if you want, we’re even.”

“Until you start bitching about Lucozade again?” asks Agatha lightly.

 

**_Group Chat: we’re gonna be stepsiblings lmao_ **

**_Ros_ ** _: HAAAAAAAAAH DESTROYED_

Tedros groans.

“Seriously, that does have loads of crap in it. Kids don’t _need_ all that-” he catches her unimpressed look in the wing mirror and clamps his mouth shut. Agatha snorts.

They spend most of the rest of the journey in what could almost be described as a comfortable silence. Alex snores. The radio burbles quietly under the roar of the other cars and the rumble of the engine. Tedros is silent, tapping his fingers on his thigh. He looks exhausted-

“And to think I’ve got a date tomorrow.” He mumbles.

Agatha damn near crashes the car, though, why, she doesn’t quite know. Tedros doesn’t seem to notice, thankfully.

“O-oh?”

“Yeah.” Tedros nods tiredly. “I haven’t been on a date in ages. Now I feel like I should stay home and look after Alex. But I don’t want to stand her up. She’s really nice.”

Agatha says it before she can stop herself;

“Alex can come round to my place. If you want. If that’s easier.”

Tedros blinks.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Totally. I mean, it makes sense, right? I can keep an eye on her, I know what I’m doing. Maybe she can have some actual food.”

Tedros pulls a face at the jibe, but he mostly ignores it. Instead, he’s nodding, relived.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s… really helpful. Thanks, Agatha.”

“No problem.” Agatha says, even though it sounds weird, and sort of insincere. She’s not sure why. It’s just a nice thing to do, right? Even if they are supposed to be sort of feuding. She’s not sure if they are, though, anymore.

Are they still feuding? Does she still hate Tedros?

No, she doesn’t hate him. Somehow. He’s annoying and overprotective and generally a bit too spur-of-the-moment, but if watching someone panic over their daughter for three hours doesn’t at least make you empathise with them a bit, what will?

Because that’s why she’s feeling a bit more inclined to like him, right?

(Right?)

 --

**_Group Chat: we’re gonna be stepsiblings lmao_ **

**_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _GODDAMNIT_

 **_Ros:_ ** _there he goes_

 **_Marcus:_ ** _I thought you said Flavia was nice_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: she isssssss but idk she’s too much like my mom… he needs to learn his lesson ngl he has a weird ideal of what a family should look like and sticks to it like mad. I chalk it up to him being insecure and having an oppressive rich upbringing but whatever_

 **_Marcus_ ** _: that was… actually really deep_

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _: don’t act so surprised I’m rly clever_

_Seen at 17:45 pm by **Marcus, Ros**_

**_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _:/_

 **_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _anyway we’re all literally sat next to one another why are we talking via msg_

 **_Ros:_ ** _dunno lol. Wanna loudly criticise mine and marcus’s Mario Kart tactics and laugh at us when we lose on 50cc_

 **_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _ooh go on then_

Agatha’s so distracted that it’s actually humiliating.

She hasn’t been thinking properly since last night- a morning operation, then a rush to get to the school to pick up Marcus and Rosalind, then get home, frantically tidy up, and _then_ Tedros rocks up with Alex and has the audacity to look very hot and wear a suit jacket.

Agatha thinks she might have embarrassed herself, but she can’t be sure. The whole interaction is kind of a blur in her mind.

Now she’s vaguely trying to chop up peppers for dinner, and almost drops her knife when her phone goes off.

Hoping Hester hasn’t told Sophie all about her semi-rival-crush dude-

Wait, what?

Groaning, Agatha wills her stupid brain to actually work and opens the text. It’s from an unknown number.

 _Unknown:_  
_Ok… so, I know we don’t know each other but this is important:_  
I can tell you how to get Tedros to like you if u want bc I think  
you’d be a good stepmom for alex

Agatha stares at it for a good twenty seconds, her brain just simply not functioning. The words didn’t make sense together. At all.

 **_Agatha:  
_ ** _…I’m sorry, who is this?_

 **_Unknown:  
_ ** _Ohh lol okay, sorry- I’m Beatrix. Tedros’s ex-wife._

When it sinks in, Agatha damn near throws her phone. Tedros’s _ex-wife?_

Wife? Tedros? Ex?

(Stepmom?)

But more importantly: Tedros had been _married?_

 **_Unknown:  
_ ** _This is Agatha right_

 **_Agatha:  
_ ** _Um, yes. But I’m not… going to be Alex’s stepmom?_

 **_Unknown:  
_ ** _But do you wanna be_

 **_Agatha:  
_ ** _Um_

 **_Unknown:  
_ ** _Great! Okay so number one compliment his arms bc he’s super vain about it and it’s an easy way to get him to be rly smug_

What was happening?

Agatha realises she’s burning the onions and quickly reaches over to turn off the burner, before turning to reply to this Beatrix before she can offer any more tips;

 **_Agatha:  
_ ** _Wait wait wait. Who even gave you this number? And who told you I was trying to get Tedros to like me?_

( _Was_ she trying to get Tedros to like her?)

Agatha shakes off _that_ thought and instead busies herself with saving Beatrix’s name in her phone while she waits for the explanation to roll through.

 **_Beatrix:  
_ ** _Oh lol we have mutual friends, hester told me that you have some sort of feud with him and then I was texting alex last night to check she was alright, and she said you were super nice, and you and Teddy had a massive fight when she broke her wrist… but then seemed to get along fine later in the car? and I think he likes you bc I asked him about you and he changed the subject_

Agatha reads this once. Then twice.

For some reason, the only things that register in her brain immediately are that 1) the nickname “Teddy” was objectively adorable for a 6 ft supermodel dad in his 30s, and 2) if Alex had overheard their whole conversation, that meant that was _totally_ pretending to be asleep, and probably heard Tedros’s comment about the ten mcflurries.

For some reason, this is actually _funny_ to Agatha _._ Even though the text means that almost everyone (apart from, like, the two of them) think that she and Tedros like each other, and also, Tedros is going to get _so_ much shit from Alex for the next few weeks whilst she hams up that damned wrist.

Agatha sits down at the kitchen counter and puts her head in her hands, feeling vaguely hysterical. Her phone buzzes.

 **_Beatrix:_ ** _  
r u okay?_

 **_Beatrix:_ ** _  
sorry did I scare you a bit_

 _God, you can tell she’s related to Alex._ Agatha thinks. And then she laughs so hard, and so hysterically, that Rosalind comes pattering into the kitchen to find out if she’s okay.

-

Several hours later, Marcus has lost thirteen games of Mario Kart to Ros, and Alex is in raptures about Agatha’s _kaeng matsaman_ and is practically begging her to cook for them permanently.

“Noooo, but you don’t get it, dad’s a love but he can’t cook anything for _shit,_ we barely survive off of badly cooked pasta, every time my mom visits she’s horrified-”

Agatha, too tired and confused to reprimand her for swearing and also vaguely sure she’s probably right, just laughs and checks Alex has got her arm in the right position.

Tedros is back soon after, and he looks happy enough, but the second Alex is gone, Agatha utters the immortal “how did it go?” and he sags, defeated.

“Fine. It was fine.”

“Just fine?”

Tedros smiles weakly.

“Exactly. I don’t think either of us are interested in pursuing it further. She’s fine with that, and so I am I.” he frowns. “I think. It’s just… I dunno.”

He fiddles with a button on his jacket, hair falling in his eyes. Agatha resists the urge to push it back and instead leans against the doorframe, frowning. She’s not sure why she’s feeling _pleased_ that his date didn’t go that well- that must have made her a bit of a shitty person, right? To be happy about someone else’s unhappiness? Okay, that sounded really bad, but-

Agatha decides to change the subject.

“Um… I got a text from Beatrix.”

Tedros jolts up.

_“Beatrix?”_

“As in your ex-wife, yeah.” Agatha yawns. Tedros looks embarrassed, for some reason.

“Oh, right. Yeah. Should have told you, I guess.”

“Not my business. No reason to.”

Tedros smiles a bit more.

“Right. Yeah. Yeah. Um… what did she say?”

Agatha suddenly remembers the content of the texts. She’s fairly sure she can feel Alex staring at her from the sitting room, but doesn’t dare look.

“Erm… just asking about Alex. And our apparent feud. Apparently we have mutual friends, and Hester told her?”

Tedros shrugs.

“Could be. Never kept up well, she has a lot of friends. She was okay with you, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Agatha hesitates, but she’s tired and confused and stressed and she says it anyway. “You seem to get on fine.”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, there wasn’t any massive fight.” Tedros picks up one of Rosalind’s little glass penguins from the windowsill and examines it. “Yeah we were… twenty-ish, maybe twenty one, when we got married? To be honest, it was rushed and messy, and neither of us went into it for the right reasons. By the time Alex was two, we’d basically had enough. For me, it was just a way of fulfilling what my family wanted- I was already hot and rich, I just needed a hot and rich wife and a nice family. For Bea, it was a last ditch effort to prove she was straight. It didn’t work.”

“Oh.”

Tedros grins a bit.

“Yeah. No hard feelings, though. We were never that close, anyway. We just sort of went our separate ways. She lives in France with her wife, now, but comes across to see me and Alex pretty regularly. It works fine.”

“Oh. Yeah, I get it.”

They stand there in silence for a minute. Tedros tugs on his collar and fiddles with his cuffs. Agatha thinks about kissing him.

Agatha thinks about _what now?_

Resisting the urge to bang her head against the wall, Agatha looks around for Alex, wondering what’s taking her so long, but finds herself looking back at Tedros again, and again.

He still looks tired, Agatha notes- but not exhausted, exactly. More… pale? Weak?

Frowning, Agatha peers closer at him-

Alex comes thundering down the corridor with her bag and too much disregard for her own physical wellbeing considering she’s got a broken wrist, and Agatha waves them off, trying to work out how one person can feel disappointment and relief about the same situation, at the same time.

-

Agatha is dealing with it fine. She is dealing with it _fine._ Maybe she _does_ have a pathetic mom crush on the stupid hot supermodel dad of her daughter’s friend. _Maybe so!_ And maybe she just passed out on the couch for a few minutes whilst Marcus and Rosalind are doing homework, but. She. Is. Fine.

Or she is until Hester blabs.

Her phone ringing madly wakes her up. The caller ID has her fully awake in seconds.

“Sophie, what do you want?”

“TEDROS _PENDRAGON? YOU HAVE THIS WEIRD FOOTBALL RIVALRY WITH TEDROS PENDRAGON?”_

“…Hester is dead to me.”

Sophie screams- an honest to god, actual, ear-shattering scream- down the phone. Agatha winces.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BOOK HIM FOR MY NEW CLOTHING LINE NOW, _AGATHA?”_

“There is absolutely no need to say my name with that much venom. Also, you’re trying to book him?”

“I _WAS_ UNTIL _MY OWN SISTER CALLED HIM A PRICK IN PUBLIC!”_

“He doesn’t need to know we’re related. We look nothing alike. We don’t even have the same surname.”

“BUT I TALK ABOUT YOU ALL THE TIME!” Sophie wails. Any other time, Agatha would have been vaguely endeared. Now she’s just annoyed.

“Well, you can keep doing that, because we’re not really fighting anymore.”

“HOW CAN YOU JU- wait, you’re not?”

“No. I drove him and his daughter to hospital when she broke her wrist and babysitted for him when he went on a date.”

There was a very, very long pause.

“Are you still alive?” asks Agatha, pottering into the kitchen to get a drink.

“You… owe me… like ten favours.” Sophie spits out.

“Did I get you to sweat off your foundation?”

“I’M HAVING HEART PALPITATIONS!” Sophie wails.

“Check yourself into hospital if they get worse.”

“I haaaate you.” Sophie moans. There’s a thud which Agatha chalks up to a dramatic collapse onto the nearest piece of furniture. “Can you get him in contact with me?”

“I’m not your secretary.” Agatha grumps, turning back to the sitting room with her glass of chocolate milk. “Do it yourself. I’m going back to sleep.”

“It’s half two!”

“I had a morning operation.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Maybe if you stop saying that, I’ll bring it up to him at the game on Sunday.”

Sophie hesitates. Agatha can practically hear her brain working.

“…oh, Aggie, would you?”

“That was a quick change of opinion, now wasn’t it?”

“Oh, pfft, as long as you do it, I’ll be an angel.”

Even though Sophie can’t see her, Agatha rolls her eyes anyway.

“Riiight. Well, I’ll see you next week. And maybe I will tell Tedros about this clothing line. Maybe.”

Sophie clearly knows she’s not getting any better.

“Okay, darling!” she chirps. “See you soon, send my love to the twins!”

And then she’s gone and Agatha rolls her eyes, tossing her phone onto the sofa and slumping back, trying not to face the conflicting emotions in her mind.

When her phone rings, she thinks Sophie’s calling again, and picks up without looking at the ID.

“Yeah?”

“…Agatha?”

Ah. Not Sophie.

“Oh, Tedros. Hi.”

“Yeah, hi…”

Something’s wrong, Agatha can tell immediately. Tedros is breathing hard, which is odd- he sounds like he’s panting. The reception is bad, like he’s somewhere remote.

“Are you okay?”

“…I need to tell you about that.”

“What? Tedros, where are you?”

“At home.”

“ _Where_ at home?”

Tedros mumbles something indistinct.

“What?”

“Stairs.”

“At the top or bottom?”

“…bottom.”

Ohhhh, shit. Shit.

“Where’s Alex?” Agatha demands, already standing up.

“Sora’s. He’s a friend.”

“…right.” He’s on his own. _Shit. “_ Tedros, did you fall down the stairs?”

“I passed out.”

“ _On_ the stairs?”

“Yeah.”

“And then did you fall down them?”

“I passed out.” Tedros repeats. Agatha grimaces, but tries her best to stay calm.

“Yeah, you said. But when you passed out, were you coming downstairs?”

“Yeah.”

“So did you fall down the stairs?”

“No, I passed out.”

This was going nowhere. Agatha bit her lip, trying to put her shoes on with one hand.

“Okay, hang tight, I’m coming round, is there a spare key?”

“Yeah, but I can-”

“You can stay there. Still. And not move.”

“But-”

“Where’s the spare key?”

“Under the doormat.”

“ _Under the fuc_ -” Agatha stops herself. She can almost see Tedros’s bewildered face. “Right. Okay. I’m going to hang up now, and then I’m going to come over to your house. Alright?”

“Yeah.” Tedros coughs. “Yeah.”

“Okay. See you in a few minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

Agatha hangs up, tugs her shoes on, and turns to see Marcus and Rosalind staring at her from the stairs.

“What-” begins Marcus, but Agatha’s already talking;

“Call Hester and ask her to come over. Then text Alex and tell her to head here, not back home, and her dad is hopefully fine. I’ll be back soon.”

She hoped.

“Is Tedros-”

“Not sure. Please don’t blow up the house, use fire, or chop anything with knives.”

And with that, she’s out of the door and sprinting down the pavement.

 

She’s there in record time, and soon she’s sweaty, panting, and scrabbling under the goddamn _doormat_ for the _spare key._

God, she knew he was stupid, but _this_ stupid?

Groaning, she unlocks the door and almost immediately finds Tedros staring at her from the floor-

Whatever he says is interrupted by a furious dog barking like the world is ending.

Agatha looks down to see the dopiest looking golden retriever to ever grace the world crouched next to Tedros, all its stupid golden fur on end, a ratty old bandanna tied around its neck.

Tedros gives it a half-hearted shove.

“Shuddup, Chicken, is jus’ Agatha- go away, dozy dog, go on…”

Chicken the dog abandons his barking and instead tries to lick Tedros, who just shoves him off and grins when the dog sneezes on him. Agatha sighs as the dog gets in the way and is just generally an inconvenience, especially when he tries to chew her bag.

“Can you get the stupid dog out of the way?” she asks as Chicken sniffs around her shoes and tries to offer her his bird plushie (which appeared to be a chicken as well).

Tedros looks disappointed that she is not immediately taken by said stupid dog, and reluctantly orders Chicken to go to his bed, which Chicken sort of does- he sits in the doorway of the kitchen, and stares at his master and the strange grumpy woman like he’s not already the shittiest guard dog ever.

Tedros is staring up at her when she looks back down.

“Hi.” He says. Agatha doesn’t reply; instead, she slams the door, dumps her bag on the floor, and kneels down next to him.

 “What are you doing?” Tedros asks, and it’s so casual Agatha nearly screams. But she doesn’t. Instead, she says;

“What’s Alex’s middle name?”

Tedros stares at her. His eyes are very blue.

“Marie. Why?”

Okay, that was right- she’d heard that at the hospital- and he’d answered fast.

“Checking if you’re concussed or not. Have you been sick?”

“No.”

“Do you feel sick?”

“A bit.”

“Can you sit up on your own?”

Tedros starts to try, groans, and drops back down again.

“Maybe, but my back- hurts.”

“Okaaaay…” Agatha blows out a breath and sits back on her heels, trying to call in her operating room calmness and not really succeeding- forget Sophie, _she’s_ got the heart palpitations, and how is Tedros so _calm?_ Plus, Chicken the dog is staring at her from the kitchen door, which is vaguely unsettling.

Actually, to be fair, Tedros looks a bit bewildered, Agatha admits to herself. But she checks around him to see if he’s bleeding, and nothing’s visible, and he hasn’t got a black eye, he hasn’t thrown up, he has basic fact recall… calm _down_ Agatha!

“Okay, you probably don’t have a concussion.” Agatha says, more to reassure herself than him. “Did you say something about your back?”

“Hurts.”

“No shit, you fell down the stairs. But you can move and stuff, you’re probably alright. Anything else?”

“Just sort of…” Tedros makes a vague, all-encompassing gesture. “Everything. Hurts.”

“Yeah, well, it’s going to. Did you say you passed out?”

“Mhm.” Tedros is peering at her in an oddly open manner. He looks rather pleased. Agatha has no idea why you would be pleased after falling down the stairs.

“… any idea why you passed out?”

Aha. It looks like that open face is going to be useful, because Agatha _knows_ she just saw a flicker of guilt.

“…no.” lies Tedros. Agatha stares at him. Tedros looks even guiltier.

“I… dunno. Haven’t eaten loads. I guess.”

“Honestly?”

Tedros is scarlet now.

“I imagine you’d say I’m on a stupid new fad diet that’s completely unnecessary and damaging.”

If he wasn’t already injured, Agatha would have punched him.

_“You’re what?”_

Tedros presses his lips together and looks away. Whilst Agatha is pleased he seems to be less confused, there are also about thirty other things that she is furious at, including both of them, Chicken the dog, capitalism, and the modelling industry.

“Did you run here?” Tedros asks.

“Who cares if I ran here or not?” snaps Agatha, furious at his attempt to change the subject. Tedros looks rather hurt and she backtracks; “Alright, sorry. Yes. I did. Now, do you think I can get you to the sofa?”

Tedros twists his mouth a bit.

“Hopefully. Are you not going to have a go at me for the stupid fad diet?”

“Oh, no- once I’m sure that nothings’ broken, and you’re going to be okay in the long run, I am going to _murder_ you.”

“I’m not sure that counts as being okay in the long run.” Murmurs Tedros. Agatha glares at him and he shuts up.

-

It takes a good deal of sweating, swearing, and Chicken getting in the way, before Agatha successfully manages to tow Tedros down the hall to the sofa, and even more to convince him to take his shirt off so she can examine his back. He’s _definitely_ too skinny, and once Agatha is satisfied that nothing is broken or seriously damaged (although he is going to have some honestly magnificent bruises), she’s tramping into the kitchen and rootling through the cupboards and the fridge, mostly encountering what she expected- a bunch of vegetables, some cereal, and a lot of fad diet stuff.

She chucks all the diet stuff in the bin, and impales one with a kitchen knife, just to make a point, because Tedros is so, _so_ stupid, and who even does fad diets, stops their daughters from having McFlurries, and keeps their spare keys under the _doormat?_

Idiots, that’s who.

Whilst she’s grumbling to herself and trying to work out which of these obscure superfood vegetables can be put in an actually edible curry, she hears keys in the door-

Alex.

Damn it-

“DA-AAAAADD!”

Alex goes thundering down the hall, Agatha dives out of the kitchen, Alex trips over the stupid dog, who came charging out to meet her, Agatha catches Alex’s bad arm, careful to avoid her wrist, marvels at her own reflexes- and promptly falls over the dog, as well.

They land in a sprawling heap on the threshold of the sitting room, but Alex’s bad arm is undamaged and she hasn’t flung herself at Tedros, and to be fair, that’s basically all Agatha cares about-

“Ow.” Says Alex from on top of her.

“Wow.” Says Tedros from the sofa.

Agatha says something a bit stronger from under Alex.

Chicken barks.

 “Did you not get Marcus’s message?” she demands, as Alex thanks her profusely, apologises even more, stands up, and scampers over to Tedros, who looks rather impressed, and very bruised- they appear to have spread whilst she’s been cooking.

“Oh- I did, but I panicked and ignored it.” Alex hesitates. “Sorry. I suppose I should text him.”

Agatha, who cannot think of anything else to say to that, just sighs, nods, and goes to finish dinner, leaving Alex to freak out over the state of her father.

-

By half past ten, Alex is passed out on the floor next to Chicken, the stress of the day too much for her fourteen-year-old ADHD brain, and Agatha is having a furious, whispered, rant at Tedros.

“- _don’t_ tell me you make Alex do them, because I will-”

Tedros cuts her off, and Agatha is shocked to look across and see that he looks almost _upset._

“ _What?”_ he croaks. _“_ Of course I don’t! I would _never_ make her do that, I’ve always _tried_ to cook decent food for her, just because I’m shit at it doesn’t mean I don’t _try_ -!” He cuts himself off and presses his mouth into a thin line, as if he’s trying to control his emotions.

It occurs to Agatha that she may have been a bit harsh. His daughter broke her wrist like four days ago, and he’s just been on a failed date, he’s doing a stupid fad diet to try and appeal to the flaming trash heap of the modelling industry, and now he’s passed out and fallen down the stairs, (which is, actually, scary as _hell)_ and she, Agatha, despite the fact she’s meant to be helping, turned up, called his dog stupid, shouted at him, and accused him of making his daughter do fad diets.

Suddenly, she feels very guilty, watching Tedros stare at his horrible, hole-ridden socks and rub his scratched face. Not just for that, but sort of for everything.

“… you’re right. Sorry. I shouldn’t have been that harsh.”

Tedros makes a movement that was clearly supposed to be a shrug, but it doesn’t really work because of his bruised back.

“’s fine.”

They remain in an awkward silence for a minute. Agatha takes a cushion from the sofa and props up Alex’s wrist. Tedros prods at his bruised knees. Agatha sits on the sofa by Tedros’s feet.

“Probably getting a bit old for this whole modelling thing.” Tedros blurts out. Agatha frowns.

“You’re like thirty-six. That’s not that old.”

“Five.”

“What?”

“Thirty-five.”

“Oh my god, I am _so_ sorry that I was out by _one_ year. That makes all the difference.”

Tedros laughs. Agatha feels rather pleased.

“Well, I haven’t really done much for quite a few years now. I dunno. Most designers and people want models who are basically kids. Messed up that they find teenagers more attractive than adults, huh?”

“Very messed up.”

That’s when Agatha remembers something.

“Oh- um, actually, about that?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know of Sophie Woods?”

Tedros nods vehemently.

“Oh, yeah! She’s massive in the fashion industry. I love her summer collections. Why?”

He catches the look on her face and grins.

“You really don’t know anything about fashion, do you?”

“No. But I do know Sophie.”

“How come?”

“She’s my adoptive sister.” Agatha says as casually as possible.

Tedros’s mouth drops open. Agatha bites back a grin.

“ _Seriously?”_

“Yeah.”

“Wow! And you somehow still know nothing about fashion?”

“Alright, shut up, I haven’t got to the good bit yet.”

“The good bit?”

“Yeah. So, about ten minutes before you called me, she called me and screamed a lot. Know why?”

“…why?”

“Because she found out that I called you a prick in public and was horrified that her own sister would do such a thing to a model she’s trying to book.”

Tedros laughs.

And then he stops.

“Wait… what?”

“She’s trying to get in touch with you. For her new clothing line. I said if she’s nice to me I might help.”

Tedros stares at her for a solid minute. He looks so bewildered that Agatha almost laughs.

Over the course of the conversation, they’ve drifted closer together- now their knees are angled together and Tedros is sat upright, which probably isn’t a good-

Tedros _finally_ reacts- in fact, he damn near falls off the sofa, saved only by his arm over the back and Agatha grabbing him around the waist.

“ _Really?”_ he beams, from halfway onto the floor. Their faces are inches apart.

“Get back on the sofa, idiot!” gripes Agatha, trying her best not to have a heart attack. Tedros does the opposite- he falls off, and drags Agatha with him.

They land in a heap on the floor and Agatha groans, pinned under Tedros’s arm somewhere vaguely around his chest. It’s a wonder they didn’t fall on Alex.

“Please don’t tell me you did yourself more harm. Because you’re patching yourself up if you did.”

Tedros just laughs at her, and there’s such obvious fondness in his eyes that Agatha feels that her heart is burning a hole in her chest.

“You’re the best, Agatha.”

Agatha doesn’t know how to respond to that without sarcasm. She doesn’t know how to respond to that, full-stop. She doesn’t know what to do. She knows what she _wants_ to do, but _want_ and _should_ are two very different things-

“Stop thinking.”

“Huh?”

“I can see you thinking. Stop it.”

Agatha stares at him. Tedros stares back.

Agatha kisses him.

For a couple of seconds, literally nothing happens. Agatha is vaguely sure that time has stopped.

She isn’t really sure what she expects Tedros to do. But she’s definitely not prepared when he kisses her back.

He tastes vaguely like vanilla, which is nice, and his hands are tight on her waist-

Oh, okay, this is happening.

 _Oh, my god,_ this is happening-

 _What happened to not thinking?_ Screams Agatha’s Rational Brain. _Kiss your stupid hot supermodel pathetic mom crush-_

_“Seriously?”_

Agatha falls off of Tedros and Tedros elbows the side table and Agatha bashes her knee on the floor and Alex is sat up, looking somewhere between unimpressed and amused.

Oh, shit. Alex.

“Hello. I am… still here.” Says Alex. “Is that really necessary? Right now?”

Chicken sneezes. Tedros and Alex stare at each other. Agatha considers braining herself on the side table.

Alex turns on her phone, unlocks it, and opens a group chat, all with a very unnecessary flourish, and whilst looking her father dead in the eye. Agatha can read the chat name;

**_we’re gonna be stepsiblings lmao_ **

She can guess who’s in it. Agatha wonders vaguely how long it’s been called that-

Tedros dives for Alex’s ankles, Alex dodges and scampers for the kitchen, texting as fast as she can with one hand, Tedros crashes after her, someone shrieks, and a pillow comes zooming through the doorway, and Agatha just sits on the floor and laughs- at them, and herself, and everything.

Chicken scratches his back, shakes himself, and comes to see if Agatha has any nice treats for him.

-

 **_Alexandra the Great_ ** _has changed the chat name to **we’re actually gonna be stepsiblings holy shit**_

 **_Alexandra the Great:_ ** _oh you ain’t gonna believe this shit kids_

-

**_Beatrix:_ **

_What’s this I hear about my ex and the woman who is 100% not Alex’s stepmom?_

**_Beatrix:_ **

_I heard from Alex btw so it’s probably legit_

**_Hester:_ **

_Please no_

**_Sophie:_ **

_AGATHA CALL ME NOW_

 

Agatha ignores them all. Rosalind snorts.

“Your priorities are interesting.” Says Tedros from somewhere just behind her.

“I’d say correct, actually.” Agatha’s phone starts ringing. She sees the name and declines the call.

“You’re gonna have to talk to her at some point.” Muses Marcus.

“Yes.” Admits Agatha. “But right now, I’m making sure Tedros and Alex don’t die because Tedros can’t cook.”

Tedros makes a non-committal noise, examining the hob over her shoulder. He has one arm looped around her waist, and his chin propped on her shoulder, and it’s so disgustingly domestic that it’s embarrassing.

Agatha wants to live in it forever.

“It looks good.”

“Good, maybe you’ll actually eat something.”

Tedros digs his hand into her ribs. Agatha kicks him in the shin. Ros rolls her eyes at Marcus across the kitchen.

Alex is texting.

“Who’re you texting?” Tedros asks her. Alex goes pink and shoves her phone in her pocket.

“No one.”

“Didn’t know you had their number.”

“Ha, ha.” Alex changes the subject. “How’s your back?”

“Purple. Don’t change the subject.”

Alex scowls and Ros sells her out.

“Sebastian, apparently.”

“ _Ros!”_ shrieks Alex.

“Wha-aaat? You’re sending him _vines_!”

“Who’s Sebastian?” demands Tedros.

“This is why I didn’t tell you!” booms Alex, pointing an accusing finger at Tedros. “I knew you were gonna get weird! It’s because it’s a boy, isn’t it?”

“Alex, like half of your friends are boys! And I wouldn’t have gotten ‘ _weird’_ if you’d just answered instead of getting all shifty-!”

Agatha doesn’t look away fast enough and Alex takes her chance.

“Agathaaaaa, he’s getting weird about it, isn’t he?”

Agatha makes a vague noise that isn’t agreement or disagreement, and turns hastily back to the stove to hide a grin. She can still hear them arguing behind her. It’s funny, because, like, a couple of months ago, listening to Tedros argue would have pissed her off _so, so,_ much. Now it’s just endearing.

Huh.

Agatha tosses a handful of spices into the pan and puts a lid on it. She turns around and declines Sophie’s third call, because she can, and kisses Tedros, because she can, (and she likes doing it) and checks on Alex’s now free, but still very bruised wrist, because she needs to, and decides that if this is how she has to live, it isn’t bad at all-

There’s a scuffle behind her, and Alex starts shouting, shattering the vague moment of peace she’d literally been feeling ten seconds ago, if that.

“JUST LET ME TEXT MY FRIEND IN PEACE ROSALIND! OH MY GOD YOU’RE SO ANNOYING-”

Agatha snorts and goes to break them up.

This is fine too. And probably, if she's to be honest, far more realistic. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is the longest thing I have ever written all at once o m g I did it all in like four days. I'm actually really proud ngl... i tried out quite a lot of stuff I haven't done before here as well! tell me what you think!


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